The Biomass Revolution ttc-1

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  In the distance he watched a pair of leaves chase each other in a fickle wind. He watched them sail back and forth around the statue. They came to rest on the boot of a hefty man, who paid no attention to the insignificant leaves. He appeared to be in an argument with another man, flailing his hands in the air as they talked.

  Leo crept forward, his eyes trained on these two strangers; his curiosity was building like a cat fixating upon its prey. He shoved the remaining bit of tomato in his mouth and stood up to get a better look. Something was different about them—something told him he had seen them before.

  They were both dressed in aged thermal jackets, very uncommon for a Rohanian but not incredibly rare. It wasn’t the jackets or their thick scarves, which could be used as dust masks in the Wastelands, that gave them away. It wasn’t even the impression of their pistols inconspicuously hidden in their cargo pants either. It was their boots. Leo never mistook the boots of a TDU soldier. They all wore the same type; black, steel toed, and stained by the dust of the tunnels where the TDU operated.

  Leo smiled. In another life he must have been a police officer, he told himself. His detective skills were unrivaled. He chuckled and shook his head in amusement at the two foolish soldiers. Not a week after the attack and they show up in Rohania and they didn’t think to change their boots? No wonder they were losing the war.

  Leo recalled what he had read in the Lunia Post. He snagged one of the free copies the State distributed the day after the TDU’s headquarters were reportedly destroyed. He knew better to believe anything in the Post though. It was controlled by the State and their attempt at convincing Rohanians the TDU was gone had failed yet again. It wasn’t the first time they had tried. The State had issued the same propaganda in the past, the headlines reading, “TDU Destroyed.”

  Leo cautiously made his way through the dense crowd, chuckling to himself. The fact that the State believed free papers would spread their rhetoric, considering the literacy rate in Rohania wasn’t even 50 percent, was laughable.

  “Ah, I remember now, Commander Obi and his loyal comrade Ajax,” Leo muttered under his breath, making his way towards the two soldiers.

  He had met the soldiers a few years back when he still worked in the smuggling business. If they were still alive, then there was still hope for the TDU.

  “Get out of my way!” yelled a muffled voice Leo knew could only be from the breathing apparatus of a Knight. He turned and saw three Knights racing through the crowd, their assault rifles drawn.

  “Move, move, move!” another one of the faceless Knights yelled.

  Panic rushed through Leo as he followed the screaming crowd towards any exit from the market, pushing a young girl out of his way.

  “Hey!” her mother yelled out in defense.

  “Sorry,” was all Leo could muster, before he disappeared back into the crowd.

  He turned quickly to look for the Knights. He was gaining ground on them, but he had lost track of Obi and Ajax. If the two were caught the TDU really would be in danger of falling apart. Both soldiers were well known in Rohania, and were heroes in a war which had so far been very one sided. “Shit, where are they?” he cursed under his breath.

  Leo pushed forward, his old legs protesting and groaning with every move as he clawed through the patrons. Finally he made his way into an alleyway, the brick buildings passing by in a blur. To his left was Sacred Heart, an abandoned church from the early 21st century. He knew its passages well and slept there many restless nights. To his right was an entrance to the Boondocks, a street the Knights would normally avoid.

  I need to make sure they escape, he thought, running past the church and market in hope of catching sight of Obi and Ajax.

  He rounded another street corner just as a thick arm reached out and grabbed him by his collar, yanking him clear off his feet and slamming him into the brick wall of a building.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, old man?” his attacker yelled.

  Dazed, Leo’s vision slowly came back into focus. The blurriness finally subsided and his eyes fell upon the scruffy chin of Ajax.

  A smile instantly raced across Leo’s face.

  “I was coming to talk to you!” he exclaimed.

  Ajax pounded one of his fists into the brick wall. “You could have led those Tin Cans right to us!” he said.

  “I’m sorry, but I can help you. I know things.” Leo pleaded.

  Obi stepped towards the old man, pushing Ajax out of the way. “What could you possibly know that could help us?”

  A sense of hope glimmered in Leo’s eyes. “I know of someone you two would be very interested in. A man named Spurious who works in the Sector of Government Services. His parents…” Leo paused, his eyes darting back and forth from Ajax to Obi. “His parents were the founders of the TDU!” Leo exclaimed.

  Obi shot Ajax a quick glance. “What do you know of this man?” he asked.

  “I came across him a few weeks back. He travels to Rohania every couple days to meet with his lover.”

  Ajax cut him off. “How do you know these things?”

  “I know everything in Rohania and everyone.” Leo said, grinning.

  Ajax slammed Leo back into the wall. “I don’t trust him, boss.”

  “We don’t have a choice. This Spurious sounds just like the person we’re looking for. If he does work for SGS, he probably knows the tunnel system, and he could help us get access.”

  Ajax frowned. “I don’t like this. He’s nothing more than a crazy old man,” Ajax said venomously.

  “We have to trust him for now,” Obi responded.

  Ajax nodded and let Leo back down, patting the dust off his shoulders.

  “Lead the way, old man.” Obi said, following Leo down the dark alleyway.

  Time: 12:05 p.m. February 23, 2071.

  Location: Sector of Governmental Services. Lunia, Tisaia

  A powerful rain beat the metal roof of the SGS building. Spurious typed busily on his blue screen. The steady downpour sounded like dancing feet, reminding him of Paulo and his love for salsa.

  He frowned and pulled up a new screen of tunnel blueprints, desperately trying to put Lana and Paulo out of his mind. It was of no use; his thoughts would betray him no matter how hard he tried.

  He turned to look at Archie and began to consider his options with Lana. There were only two. They could escape to Rohania and try to survive with the help of strangers until they were able to procure secure jobs, or they could leave Tisaia and take their chances in the Wastelands.

  Spurious recalled a confidential document he came across years ago. It was a map of several tunnel systems in underground Lunia. There was a sporadic red ‘X’ marked in multiple locations, indicating what he thought were potential TDU hideouts. After digging a bit deeper, Spurious found they weren’t TDU related at all. They were locations State employees were caught trying to escape Tisaia and into the Wastelands. He remembered the shock when the dozens of red splotches finally made sense. There were others out there just like him, longing to escape the monotony of their lives and the State controlling them. Every dot represented someone willing to risk everything to escape.

  Archie swam to the top of his bowl, his tiny lips pecking at the fragments of food at the surface. Spurious watched him, wondering if he too felt trapped in his small world. He thought back to his options, neither seeming very realistic.

  Leaving Tisaia, even with his knowledge of the tunnel systems, would probably result in another red dot on the map. Except this time, there would be two—one for him and one for Lana, something he wouldn’t let happen.

  Rohania, on the other hand seemed more plausible, especially if he could make some contacts there ahead of time.

  His stomach growled, reminding him he had skipped lunch.

  Maybe I’ll go for a short walk, he thought, turning off his blue screen and heading for the stairs. The stifling concrete staircase was filled with the scent of bleach, recently cleaned by a crew of servi
ce workers. As he descended the last few floors and headed for the lobby exit, a voice rang out over the silence. “Hi, Spurious!”

  He turned to see Cleoa working from behind the same oval receptionist desk where she had been the day he started at SGS. The only difference was a few more grays in her curtain of hair. Her smile always reminded him of those first few days when he walked through the sea of endless cubicles, meeting rooms, and the cafeteria, all reeking of bleach. It was that first day he realized the building felt like a prison, one in which he would spend the rest of his life.

  Spurious waved at Cleoa quickly, eager to escape the building. He pushed the lobby doors open and stepped outside, taking in a long breath of air. Slowly the scent of bleach faded only to be replaced with the fresh aroma of rain. He opened his eyes to see a curtain of sleet falling to the ground. The climatologists were wrong again, forecasting a mostly clear afternoon.

  Spurious sighed, heading back into the building with his head tucked in his collar. He passed several other workers on his way to the stairs and entered the hallway, catching a glimpse of Lana out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, he hid behind one of the thick concrete pillars lining the hallway. He glanced around the edge; inconspicuously as possible, his face rubbing against the cool rough surface of the concrete.

  Half way down the hall he could see Lana, her head pointed at the ground as Varius yelled at her. Other employees hurried past, ignoring them.

  Spurious pulled himself away from the view, resting his back against the pillar, his chest heaving in and out as he tried to catch his breath before heading back to his desk.

  This is just too much. I can’t take it anymore. I want to kill him, he thought, slipping back into his cubicle. Tonight he would settle everything with Lana—tonight he would meet her at his old apartment and tell her they were leaving Lunia.

  Time: 7:05 p.m. February 23, 2071.

  Location: Commons Building 21, Apt #44. Lunia, Tisaia

  Spurious sat at his wooden desk, nestled next to his lofted bed. On the cherry wood surface sat a blank piece of aging paper, waiting for his pen. For an hour Spurious sat, his right hand supporting his worried head. But the words wouldn’t come. He simply sat staring blankly at the yellow paper.

  Through the single window in his flat he watched the weak sun disappear on the horizon, darkness slowly swallowing Tisaia. Finally his thoughts met paper with a swift stroke of his pen.

  Feb 23, 2071

  Dear Ing:

  Every morning I walk past the same ancient tree whose home is in the middle of the courtyard outside my building. Its branches protrude like vines up towards the sky and brush the nearby buildings. Not a day goes by I don’t stop to admire this tree, which is dying on one side and healthy and strong on the other. And lately I feel as if I have a connection to this tree, one that symbolizes my own struggles.

  It’s not a secret that times are changing in Lunia, nor is it a secret that things have changed drastically everywhere.

  Before Paulo died, he said he feared a State that limited liberties and rights. His fear was Tisaia would eventually become this State, and it would rule by fueling so much fear in its citizens they would blindly follow every law and rule the legislature could pass.

  I honestly never believed this would happen. For years I have been brainwashed and manipulated by the Lunia Post, the Sector of Education, the Council of Royal Knights, and every other State-run agency that nourishes the general population with false hope. Their words are empty lies in a bottomless pit full of so many before them, with the sole purpose of keeping employees working like robots.

  In many ways, Tisaia has become like a worker bee colony. We work and die for the betterment of a single idea — but the idea has turned to greed. And now it’s time to leave. I can’t tell you where, but as a friend, you deserve to know why.

  Tonight I’ll meet Lana in Rohania one last time as I leave Tisaia forever.

  I’m sorry.

  Your friend always,

  Spurious

  His pen dropped softly onto the worn surface of the wooden desk, rolling down its surface towards the edge. For what seemed like hours he stared at the note, wondering if it was the right thing to do. He knew if he risked telling Ing in person there was the chance he would be caught. It was a risk he couldn't take.

  He shut off his desk lamp and headed for his closet. There was packing to do, and he wasn’t packing just for himself.

  Time: 9:05 p.m. February 23, 2071.

  Location: Tunnels. Rohania, Tisaia

  Spurious crawled on his belly through the storm drain he used to enter Rohania. In the distance he heard the humming of a Scorpion on a road somewhere above. He froze, pressing his ear against the vibrating concrete wall to listen. There was no way to determine how many Scorpions there were; the tunnel muffled the sound making it impossible to determine their location. For a minute he lay petrified on the cold floor, waiting until the Scorpion patrol passed.

  Silence washed over the tunnel, leaving only the sound of a slight wind in the distance. He grabbed his pack and started crawling again, knowing it was too late to head back. Anya would ask questions, and he knew his luck was almost gone, having evaded detection for so long.

  The heavy pack made it difficult to crawl. It was filled with items he knew they would need to survive until they found a safe house in Rohania or attempted to cross the Wastelands. It was best they left without warning, and it was even better Lana didn’t know they were leaving until the last minute. He knew they would need more than food, water, and anti-radiation tablets to survive; they would need luck, lots of it.

  After a few minutes of struggling through the narrow storm drain, Spurious climbed out in to Rohania. He darted down the narrow alley where he’d first met Leo, and made his way down the dark city streets, clinging to the shadows on his way to his old flat.

  The slick streets were mostly empty, save for the random drunk stumbling about. It was eerily quiet. Nothing but the whipping wind and the drip of a clogged roof drain. Spurious stopped in the alleyway connecting to his building, looking at the sparse shapes jetting out of the darkness — the crumbling brick of the hastily constructed buildings, the filthy storm drains clogged with trash. It wasn’t the type of place he wanted to live the rest of his life, but he had no choice. If he wanted to be with Lana he would live anywhere, through anything.

  Inside the building, Spurious lit a candle and climbed the creaky stairs to the third floor where he hoped Lana was already waiting for him.

  Spurious looked down at his watch. Lana should be here, he thought, twisting the knob to his old flat.

  The warm glow of orange candle light welcomed him. In the center of the room Lana sat on a pillow, waiting.

  “Good evening,” he whispered.

  Lana’s dark eyes glowed in the light and her cheeks flared red with blush. “Hi,” she said, her eyes pointed at her feet.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, setting his pack on the ground. He walked over and sat next to her, leaning down to give her a brief kiss on her forehead. Lana hugged him, almost forcefully.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Spurious stiffened, taking a step back just in time to hear the clanking of armor behind him.

  “DON’T MOVE!” a muffled voice screamed behind him.

  Spurious grabbed her shoulders softly, chills running through his body. He held her gaze for a second before he felt the butt of a rifle smash into his spine. He screamed in pain and collapsed onto the ground, reaching for his back in agony. His mind was spinning with confusion.

  He turned to see his attacker towering above him with a rifle aimed at his head. The Knight’s blue goggles glowed eerily in the sparsely lit room.

  “Don’t move. Stay where you are," he said, his booming voice muffled by the breathing apparatus.

  “Lana, what have you done?” Spurious yelled, trying to crawl across the floor towards her.

  “I said, don’t move!” the Knight yelled,
bringing the butt of his gun down on Spurious' right leg.

  He screamed again, reaching to calm the fire of pain shooting up his leg.

  “Don’t hurt him! Please, you promised you wouldn’t hurt him!” Lana yelled from her hiding spot.

  “Take him away,” the Knight said, as another soldier entered the room.

  “Lana, what have you done?” Spurious yelled again, crying in agony.

  “I’m sorry, Spurious! They captured my family a month ago. I had no choice. They said they would deport us all to the Wastelands!"

  The pain of the truth hurt more than the fire spreading through his injured body. She’d set him up. It was planned all along. The bruises on her neck in the courtyard the first night they spoke weren’t from Varius, they were from the Knights. Varius never threatened her. He never showed up at her house. It was the Knights all along. She traded him for her family.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  The sadness and shock quickly turned to rage. His head shot up, his eyes meeting Lana’s for a split second before she turned away to run out into the other room. He turned again and watched the Knight approach him cautiously, the barrel of his rifle aimed towards Spurious’ head.

  “No!” Spurious screamed, jumping to his feet and charging towards him. The Knight took a step back and pointed his rifle at Spurious again.

  “I’ll shoot!”

  Spurious only made it a few feet before his first attacker threw an armored punch. The metal connected with his head, blood exploding from his mouth as he sailed to the floor.

  Spurious lay on the ground, curling up and feebly wiping his mouth clean of blood. He blinked, his eyes burning in pain. He watched the two Knights reaching down to grab him, wondering if he was feeling the same fear his parents did so many years ago when the Knights came for them.

  Deep down he knew the Knights would eventually come for him, but he never imagined Lana would lead them there. His head spun, fueling the confusing agony spreading through his mind like a wildfire.